


Rise of the Phoenix

by leontina (Leontina)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark!Harry, Light Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-20 22:58:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3668358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leontina/pseuds/leontina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the 'That Picture' Flash Fest</p><p>Harry disappeared without a trace after the war. Five years later he’s back, Darker, more confident, and he wants to study Draco’s Dark Mark - no matter whether Draco wants him to or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rise of the Phoenix

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Deutsch available: [[Translation] Der Phönix erhebt sich](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5596840) by [leontina (Leontina)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leontina/pseuds/leontina), [Vaysh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaysh/pseuds/Vaysh)
  * Inspired by [...he-wants-to-laugh-at-the-irony-he-really-does (That Picture)](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/107166) by alekina. 



> First of all, I want to thank Alekina for drawing such beautiful art. It really is amazing, and I’m thrilled I can do this little remix for it. Secondly, thank you to the mods for hosting such a great flash fest.  
> Also, kudos to anyone who picks up on my nod to Lost Souls (the novel by Poppy Z Brite/Billy Martin).

Draco very nearly didn’t answer the door when he heard someone knocking.

It made sense not to, really. It was eleven o’clock at night, a rainstorm was raging outside, and all of Draco’s friends knew to use the Floo.

The knocker could either be a Muggle - which was unlikely, as Draco’s cottage was in the middle of nowhere - or a witch or wizard with whom Draco was not acquainted. Neither option was particularly brilliant.

In the end, though, Draco chose to answer the door because whoever was outside would not stop knocking. The stranger switched between loud, frantic bangs, and slow, impatient ones; both types got on Draco’s nerves.

So with his wand in hand and a Stunning spell on his lips, Draco unlocked the front door and pulled it open just enough to slip his wand through. The stranger at the door was quicker, and Draco was Disarmed and thrown backwards before he could even finish his Stunning spell. 

The door creaked on its hinges as it was pushed open, and a cloaked figure stepped across the threshold. The stranger lowered his over-large hood, and once his face was visible in the light of the lanterns on the wall, Draco realised that it was no stranger.

“Potter?” he queried, voice faint. 

Potter nodded, and one corner of his mouth twitched upwards in a semi-smirk.

It was Potter, yes, but not a Potter that Draco had ever seen before. Potter was clothed in black robes that pooled around his feet, worn over form-fitting black clothing; a brown leather holster for his wand was strapped around his thigh. A chain connected to a silver ankh dangled from his ear, and beneath his glasses Potter wore thick kohl around his eyes, jutting out in sharp lines at the corners. 

Draco scrambled for his wand and jumped to his feet as soon as he got over the disorientation from being knocked to the ground. 

Potter was watching him carefully, but was making no other move that suggested that he might hex Draco.

“What do you want?” Draco hissed, aiming his wand threateningly at Potter’s head. Potter didn’t even blink.

It had been five years since Draco had last seen Potter; five years since Potter vanished without a trace. Even Potter’s dearest friends didn’t know where he was - all they knew was that he had left willingly. 

Potter surged forwards, physically knocking Draco’s wand out of his hand as he did so, leaving the defensive curse that had been on his lips utterly useless.

Potter grabbed Draco’s arm and rolled up the sleeve, gripping the limb tightly as he ran his thumb over the Dark Mark. 

Draco squirmed uncomfortably and jerked his arm out of Potter’s grasp. Potter shot him a dark glare, a scowl crossing his face as he eyed Draco dangerously. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Draco snarled, holding his arm protectively against his chest. 

Potter - as expected - didn’t answer him. Instead he flipped the hood of his robes back up, obscuring most of his face, and turned and left without a single word.

***

Draco wasn’t sure if he had imagined seeing Potter in his house the night before. Why would Potter appear in Draco’s cottage in the middle of the night, five years after disappearing?

But just when Draco was convincing himself that the hinges on his front door were loose from natural causes, the _Daily Prophet_ was delivered and confirmed that Draco hadn’t been hallucinating.

There was a large photo of Potter in Diagon Alley on the front cover, dressed yet again in head-to-toe black. Potter in the photograph was scowling at the staring public, though most of them, rather than staring at Potter, were staring in horror at the black snake that was curled around Potter’s neck, fashioned like a deadly scarf.

_Harry Potter Spotted in Diagon Alley!_

The deadline read, followed by a brief, rambling article that Daily Prophet journalists were prone to writing when they had no real information to tell.

> Harry Potter has been seen in public for the first time in five years!
> 
> Nobody knew where Potter went following his defeat of You-Know-Who. Close friends of Potter claimed to be unaware of his whereabouts, but said that Potter had left on his own accord.
> 
> Needless to say, heads were turning when the Saviour of the Wizarding World appeared unannounced in the middle of Diagon Alley. Potter looked stylish in dark clothing, and appears to have a black mamba snake as a companion. Black mambas are a highly venomous breed of snake, usually found in sub-Saharan Africa. 
> 
> Potter was seemingly very aggravated by the presence of reporters and photographers, and was cursing very loudly and making rude gestures with his fingers which we are unable to show due to us being a family friendly newspaper.
> 
> So the question is now raised: what is Harry Potter doing back with a bad attitude and a deadly pet? Is this simply a rebellious movement or a breakdown caused by mental instability? Or should we be preparing for a potential new Dark wizard? The Daily Prophet will endeavour to discover the truth.

Draco scoffed; Potter was many things, but a budding Dark wizard was not one of them. So Potter had returned from a long absence with an attitude and style that he seemed to be basing off Severus Snape? Big deal. Potter was probably just trying to make a statement for himself.

Now, Potter accosting Draco in the middle of the night was very brash, and Draco was not going to stand for it. Who did Potter think he was, storming into his house, all intimidating, and acting like Draco was some kind of criminal because of the Dark Mark on his arm? Draco had been cleared of all charges for acting under duress, and he demanded respect.

Draco was going to find Potter and demand an answer and apology, or else Potter would be hearing from Draco’s lawyers, new attitude be damned.

***

Draco found it difficult to determine whether or not he should be pleased that Potter found him first.

Draco had returned home from a day’s work at the Ministry, where he was slowly but surely climbing the rope in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. He Flooed home and found that the lantern sconces were already lit, and Potter was sat in the middle of the floor in the lounge, surrounded by a large pile of books.

Draco drew his wand, but Potter Disarmed him before Draco could even blink. For a second it had even looked like Potter hadn’t used a wand.

“These are very tame,” Potter said, holding up a battered copy of _Legal Alternatives to Common Torture Curses_. “Not for wand-based spells, of course, but in comparison.”

In comparison to what, Potter didn’t seem willing to divulge.

“Those aren’t mine,” Draco lied quickly, unable to fathom how Potter had broken the enchantment that disguised those books; even visiting Aurors hadn’t picked up on it. “I’m holding onto them for a friend who would be in far worse trouble than I if he was discovered with them.”

Potter looked skeptical. “I’m not here to arrest you, Malfoy,” he said, holding his arm out in front of him and allowing his snake to curl around his limb. The creature was small and slender, and its scales were as black as the tongue it kept poking out to scent the air; Draco watched it warily. 

“Why are you here then?” Draco demanded, folding his arms across his chest. He tipped his chin and straightened his back to create a pose that screamed confidence and domination. Not that posing would do much good; Potter had a venomous snake and Draco’s wand, which definitely gave him the upper hand. So far Potter had made no move to hex him, and as Potter was renowned for being impulsive and reckless, Draco imagined if Potter was there to hurt him then he would have done so already. 

“That doesn’t concern you,” Potter snapped, smoothly standing up. He was the same height and body shape as Draco, yet somehow he seemed to fill the room with his presence. 

“You say that,” Draco retorted, “yet you’ve broken into my home _twice_ now.”

“I didn’t break in. You opened the door for me last time,” Potter stated, snapping his fingers. Draco’s house-elf Mopsy appeared, with her eyes glazed over and glowing green. “And your elf let me in while you were out today.”

“Did you use _Imperius_ on my elf, Potter?” Draco stared at Potter, astounded. Had the man lost his mind? Maybe the papers were right and Potter was trying to follow in the Dark Lord’s footsteps.

Potter laughed shortly. “Of course not,” he scoffed, looking affronted at the very idea. “The Imperius Curse is highly flawed once you realise there are better alternatives. I _will_ tell you, however, that I am going to be studying your Dark Mark.”

It was Draco’s turn to laugh. “No! No, you’re not going to be doing anything apart from leaving. I’m warning you, Potter, I will be getting my lawyers involved if you...fuck, get that away from me!” Draco hastily ran backwards into the wall as Potter’s snake uncurled and shot towards Draco with a menacing hiss.

Potter called the snake back to him and stepped forwards until he was backing Draco into the wall. Draco was suddenly all too aware of the warmth radiating from Potter’s body, and how the kohl made the green of his eyes pop like the Killing Curse. 

“Don’t mind Mehen,” Potter said, and he was so close that Draco could feel Potter’s warm breath on his cheek. “He won’t bite unless I tell him to. And for the record, Draco, I wasn’t asking your permission.”

Potter grabbed Draco’s arm and bent it backwards so that it hit the wall. Nails scratched against Draco’s skin as Potter pulled back the sleeve hastily. 

Draco knew that he should push Potter away, or try to reach for his wand, but Potter had a deadly snake curled around him. And somehow more terrifying than the snake was Potter himself; Draco didn’t want to piss him off while he was in such a powerless position.

All fear was wiped from Draco’s mind when Potter pressed his wand against Draco’s Dark Mark. An intense wave of _lust_ washed over him, and Draco’s mind went cloudy as Potter began murmuring incantations in a foreign tongue which Draco couldn’t understand. It sounded like Parseltongue, Draco mused. 

To his shame, Draco found himself growing hard due to Potter’s actions, which was peculiar as Draco had never known the Dark Mark to make him feel good before. 

Draco found that he was almost disappointed when Potter stopped what he was doing, but he was pleased to note that Potter’s pupils were wide and his eyes glassy; Draco hadn’t been the only one affected. 

“What did you do?” Draco asked slowly, watching Potter carefully, but Potter’s face gave nothing away.

“Research,” Potter answered vaguely. “I’m coming back tomorrow night. Make sure you have a mouse available for Mehen.”

Draco had always been an academic at heart. He enjoyed learning, but more than that, he enjoyed having knowledge that others didn’t. Potter’s actions, though somewhat strange and dubious, had piqued Draco’s interest. “What’s in this for me, Potter? If you want me to go along with this without putting up a fight, I suggest that you offer me something worth while.”

Potter’s snake pushed at Potter’s chin, and Potter stroked the creature gently with an elegant finger. Draco noticed that Potter’s nail were painted black, too. 

“I can offer you, Draco,” Potter said, and Draco hated the way his name sounded so smooth on Potter’s tongue. “I can offer you a reward beyond this world.”

***

Draco watched as Potter poured bright green liquid into two glasses.

“Absinthe?” Draco queried as Potter handed him one of the glasses. It didn’t smell like absinthe, but rather had a herby sort of smell. The colour was deeper, too; the shade was close to the colour of Potter’s eyes in fact. 

Draco took a large sip of the drink to distract himself from the nagging reminder that he kept comparing the colour of Potter’s eyes to things. 

“It’s green chartreuse,” Potter stated, taking a sip of his own drink. “I befriended some vampires when I was in New Orleans, and they introduced me to it.”

“It’s alright,” Draco mused, swirling the green drink around in his glass. It tasted herby, but there was a sort of spiciness to it, as well. “An acquired taste, I think. I hope you’re aware that this isn’t good enough to be counted as my reward.”

Potter smirked, looking up at Draco through his lashes. The effect was rather startling; Draco’s cheeks felt warm, and he wasn’t sure that it was entirely from the chartreuse. 

“Is that all you care about, Draco?” Potter raised a brow, absently petting his snake which was curled up on his lap. 

“Well you refuse to tell me what you’re doing, or why you’re doing it, so I have no other incentive,” Draco answered truthfully. He could reluctantly admit that he was intrigued by Potter’s mysterious research - and by the mysterious Potter, unfortunately - but Potter was being infuriatingly tight-lipped about the whole thing.

It seemed, however, that Draco was the only one privy to Potter’s research, which meant if anyone could uncover what Potter was doing, it would be Draco. He could tell that whatever it was, it needed a magically strong wizard like Potter to handle. Potter oozed power now, and that was almost more intoxicating than the chartreuse. 

“You won’t understand what I’m going to give you until the moment you’re ready for it,” Potter said, running his tongue along his bottom lip; Draco followed the movement. “It will be beyond anything you can imagine.”

“Funny you should say that,” Draco retorted, downing the rest of his drink and instantly regretting it when his throat burned. “The Dark Lord made similar promises, and isn’t it interesting how you’re studying _his_ Mark?”

Draco had hoped that he would hit a nerve with that. He expected Potter to snap, and shout angrily that he was nothing like the Dark Lord. Instead, Potter shrugged and smiled slowly and widely. 

“Unlike Voldemort, I can deliver on my promises,” Potter said confidently, following Draco’s suit and tipping the rest of his drink back. 

Potter hissed something to his snake, and the sound went straight to Draco’s cock. Draco had heard the Dark Lord speak Parseltongue plenty of times, and on each of those occasions the sound had been terrifying. Draco should never be considering the sound of hissing erotic, yet here he was, swooning over Potter while he spoke in snake tongue. 

“How do I know you’re not trying to trick me?” Draco demanded, pointing at his still-hypnotised house-elf which was standing patiently at the side of the room. “For all I know you’re trying to do whatever you did to Mopsy to me.”

Potter hummed thoughtfully. “House-elves always have such odd names. It’s a way of dehumanising them, I think, to make people feel better about the way they enslave and abuse them; it doesn’t count if they’re not _human_.”

Draco stared. “You’ve _hypnotised_ my elf,” he pointed out.

“Only to temporarily change her allegiance from you to me,” Potter countered. “She’d be enslaved to one of us either way. And for the record, if you’re weak enough that I can slip into your mind unnoticed, I’m wasting my time doing my research on you. That’s not the case, is it?”

Draco shook his head, determined to impress Potter for some reason.

Potter had evidently done a lot of growing up during his travels. Gone was the irritatingly snarky, argumentative prat who was overly noble, and in his place was an - admittedly still emotionally unstable - confident man who had opened up to his own power and wasn’t afraid to use it. The only downside was that Draco still hadn’t determined whether Potter was evil, into Dark magic, or just simply eccentric; his current theory combined all three options.

“Do you have the mouse I asked for?” Potter asked suddenly, and he scowled when Draco shook his head. He hissed something to his snake, who then stared at Draco with unnerving beedy eyes before slithering away from Potter and out of the window. “He’s spoilt and hates to hunt,” Potter said, reminding Draco briefly of the old Potter who had loved his pet owl like she was his best friend. “We’ll have one more drink, and then I’m going to study your Mark again.”

***

By the time Draco had finished his second glass of chartreuse, he was feeling decidedly tipsy. He wasn’t drunk because he wasn’t a lightweight, but he could still feel the effects of the drink, which was mostly manifesting in being warm and feeling like he could float away when he walked.

Potter, the git, seemed to be acting perfectly sober, despite drinking the same amount as Draco. And Draco could normally hold his liqueur, but evidently chartreuse was a lot stronger than what he was used to.

Draco watched as Potter slid his wand from its holster, and that holster should have been illegal, really, the way it ran the length of Potter’s shapely thigh. 

“You can stare at my dick all you want, but stop squirming,” Potter hissed, grabbing Draco’s arm rather forcefully.

Draco felt his face warm as he realised what it must have looked like; damn holster. If Potter hadn’t worn it so _close_ to his dick, then maybe it wouldn’t have looked like Draco was staring when he wasn’t.

“I wasn’t staring at your dick,” Draco reiterated, out loud that time. 

Potter rolled his eyes, and jabbed his wand into Draco’s arm.

Draco had been prepared for the lust and pleasure to wash over him, but his knees buckled as suddenly Draco felt like he was floating. Potter’s murmuring seemed a million miles away, like he was speaking from a cloud or maybe on a throne in Hell. 

Draco wasn’t sure if Potter had done a different spell this time, or if it was just the alcohol, but the green glow from Potter’s wand looked like it was pulsing, and carried off into the air around them which created a deep green mist. 

Then there was the desperate need for touch, for intimacy. Draco grabbed Potter’s free hand and pressed it against the bulge in his trousers before he even realised what he was doing.

His eyes snapped open - when had he even shut them? - and he expected Potter to back away in horror and disgust. Instead, Potter released the buttons on Draco’s trousers and curled his long fingers around Draco’s bare cock.

Draco gasped, bucking up into Potter’s hold as pleasure shot through his body. His arm felt pleasantly tingly, he still felt like he was floating, and Potter’s fingers around his erection felt brilliant. 

He fucked Potter’s fist desperately, and hoped very much that Potter wouldn’t judge him for hitting his peak so soon. 

Draco came over Potter’s fingers with a cry, and at the same moment Potter pulled his wand back from Draco’s arm and the floating sensation and the green glowing mist disappeared.

Draco stared at Potter wide-eyed, and when Potter took his fingers to his mouth and licked Draco’s come off them as though it were a delicacy, Draco swore in that moment that Potter would be the death of him. Still, Draco supposed it would be a satisfying way to go.

***

For what had been a very basic - though admittedly brilliant - handjob, Draco hadn’t been able to get if off his mind.

Potter seemed to invade his dreams every night, and Draco would wake up achingly hard like he was some kind of randy teenager again. The worst part of it was that Potter refused to acknowledge what had happened.

It wasn’t like Draco expected Potter to say to him “fancy a mutual wank sometime?” but a “the other night was pretty alright, huh?” or “I can’t stop thinking about how big your cock is, Draco,” wouldn’t have gone amiss.

Instead, Potter just carried on as normal; barging into his home as if he owned the place, and studying Draco’s Dark Mark whenever he pleased. 

Although whatever Potter was doing to his Dark Mark didn’t feel as intense as _that_ night, the pleasure and lust that clouded his senses grew stronger every time Potter did it. It frequently left Draco turned on, but Potter - damn him - remained closed off and infuriatingly distant.

Draco had plans to change that, however. He was tired of Potter thinking he had one up on him all the time, just because Potter had somehow grown immense control over his emotions. Draco wasn’t going to let Potter push him around and use him without getting at least a little bit of revenge.

It didn’t help that Draco couldn’t stop thinking about Potter’s cock, either.

So one night, while Mehen was out hunting - Draco had purposely not bought any mice - Draco invited Potter to sit down on a chair, and promptly Disarmed him and bound his wrists to the arms of the chair.

Potter just looked at Draco with a somewhat bemused expression. The pointed lines of the kohl around his eyes seemed extra sharp, Draco noticed, and it irritated him that even when Potter was tied up and at Draco’s whim, Potter still seemed to be in control.

“Oh dear, whatever shall I do?” Potter said mockingly, tapping his feet on the floor. 

“Shut up,” Draco hissed. He sank to his knees in front of Potter, which wiped the stupid grin off Potter’s face. 

That pleased Draco, taking it as a sign that his plan was going to work. He had somehow managed to convince himself that tying up Potter and sucking him off would be a brilliant idea. At the very least, he and Potter would be equal in terms of being needy and horny, but Draco hoped that Potter would see that Draco wasn’t some submissive little toy for him to use; Draco could take control whenever he damn well pleased!

Draco ran his fingers up Potter’s thigh, smirking when his fingers moved higher and met a thick bulge.

“Well, Potter; who knew you had a thing for being tied up?”

“It’s not that; I just like you on your knees,” Potter retorted, and had Draco been clever he would have gagged Potter before he started this. If he did it now, however, Potter would know that his words had gotten to Draco. 

“Whatever you say,” Draco shot back, trying to keep his cool.

He deftly unbuttoned Potter’s trousers and spread the material as far apart as it would go. Draco licked his lips at the sight that met him.

“No underwear, Potter?” he commented, curling his fingers around the base of Potter’s erection. “Some might call you a slut for that.”

“Takes one to know one, Draco,” Potter said, and though Potter had been calling Draco by his first name since he had forced his way back into Draco’s life, it had never turned Draco on until that moment.

Potter gasped as Draco lowered his head and took his cock into his mouth. Draco felt Potter’s thighs tense, but other than that Potter made no reaction.

Draco glanced up through his lashes, hoping to see Potter with red cheeks and his eyes closed. Instead, Potter was staring at him, and somehow the green of his eyes seemed even brighter than usual. 

Draco shut his own eyes as flashes of deathly green light burst forth in his memories, and quickly looked back down before he opened them again.

He held the base of Potter’s cock with his hand while he sucked it, swirling his tongue around the head. Potter tasted salty and bitter, not unlike the other men Draco had tasted, but maybe just the mere fact it was _Potter_ made it better.

Draco didn’t even dare look back at him, but he could tell by the way that Potter bucked his hips upwards and the way his fingers clenched on the arm of the chair that he was close to his release. Draco swallowed Potter’s erection almost all the way to the brim, and he was rewarded with a cry as Potter came in Draco’s mouth. 

Draco swallowed all of Potter’s release and licked his cock clean, before finally leaning back on his calves and looking at Potter once more. His cheeks were pink and his wild hair was matted to his forehead.

Potter looked utterly debauched, and Draco loved it - until Potter stood up, with the ropes around his wrists disappearing like vapour into the air.

Draco gaped at him.

“I think I like you a lot better when you’re not talking,” Potter commented, re-buttoning his trousers and pushing his hair away from his forehead. He finally noticed Draco’s shocked expression, and smiled a wide, slow smile that made all of Draco’s remaining satisfaction die in an instant. “Oh, you didn’t _actually_ think _Incarcerous_ could hold me, did you?” 

Draco bitterly admitted to himself that Potter had a point; even the Killing Curse hadn’t worked on Potter - on more than one occasion, in fact! He must have looked dejected, because Potter seemed to take pity on him - and pity wasn’t always a bad thing when it worked in one’s favour.

“I think, Draco,” Potter said, tilting his head and looking rather like a trashy owl. “I think you’re ready to learn about _real_ magic.”

***

When Potter had told Draco that he was going to teach him about an advanced kind of magic, Draco had imagined that they would be spending hours in a dark library looking over dusty books.

Instead, Potter had told Draco to wear all black, and then led him into Muggle Soho in London. 

It was when Draco saw the graffitied, run-down looking brick building that he decided once again that maybe Potter was evil after all, and he had brought Draco here to kill him. However, as they got closer to the building Draco started to feel the familiar pleasurable sensations that he normally felt when Potter had his wand over Draco’s Dark Mark. 

“Where are we, Potter?” Draco demanded, scowling when Potter didn’t answer him.

“You’ll see,” Potter said instead. He pressed his hand against the bricks, the black polish on his nails gleaming in the sun, and then Potter shuddered as the bricks shook and began to move aside. 

They opened up into a bar that looked just as run-down as the outside. The white paint on the walls was chipped and covered in graffiti that looked looked like runes and symbols. The black hardwood floor creaked loudly with each step, and was sticky with spilt alcohol that had never been cleaned up. Loud music filled the bar with sound, with fast drums and guitars, and a screaming vocalist. 

The people in the bar were clothed all in black - which Draco realised was why Potter had requested he wore the same - and most of whom looked like they were high on potions. If they weren’t lolling against each other or huddled in a group and hiding something from view, they were - Draco noticed with wide eyes - fucking. Right in the middle of the bar for all to see.

Pleasure was flowing through Draco’s veins like pure adrenaline, stronger than any of the times with Potter. He could feel himself growing hard, despite a lack of stimulation.Pleasure was flowing through Draco’s veins like pure adrenaline, stronger than any of the times with Potter. He could feel himself growing hard, despite a lack of stimulation - he was no voyeur, so publicly fucking couples did nothing for him. 

“What the fuck is this place?” Draco hissed. Potter turned to him with wide pupils, the green of his irises a thin circle around them. “Have you brought me to some kind of fetish bar?”

Potter nodded. “A magic fetish bar, to be precise,” Potter expanded as he gestured for Draco to take a seat at the bar. 

Draco took his wand out and cast a Cleansing Charm on the barstool, much to the amusement of Potter and the bartender.

“What’s so funny?” Draco growled. “And what do you mean by magic fetish? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Yes you have,” Potter argued, dropping his gaze to Draco’s forearm. “You feel the pleasure every time I study your Mark, and you can feel the same sensation in here, can’t you?” 

Draco nodded, and he took a deep swallow of his drink when the bartender placed a glass of green chartreuse in front of both of them.

“It’s pure magic that you’re feeling, Draco,” Potter expanded; the green of his eyes was almost impossible to see now. “We live in a culture where magic has been restricted and confined to a wand. _Pure_ magic doesn’t exist according to those in charge, because they don’t want people to know about it. It’s Dark magic, powerful and all-consuming, practised by the Ancients until wand users came along and tried to control it by making everyone forget about it.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Draco snapped. He had heard about pure magic, of course, but the concept of it was purely mythological. Potter had clearly taken some mind-altering potions without Draco seeing. “It doesn’t exist,” he declared matter-of-factly. 

Potter waved his hand and a tiny, emerald green snake materialised, curling around Potter’s wrist. Draco felt the magic brush against him, and he shivered as it sent a wave of lust over him. 

“They said the Hallows didn’t exist, either,” Potter said, which didn’t really prove his point considering the Hallows _didn’t_ exist; they had just been a pipedream of the Dark Lord’s. “I said I would reward you, Draco, and this is my reward to you - I will teach you how to open yourself up to pure magic and unleash its power. I’ve travelled all across the world learning it, and I can teach you what the masters taught me.”

Draco opened his mouth, then shut it. Potter was...crazy, unhinged, insane, but quite possibly not. He had never known magic to make him feel so good before, so maybe Potter was onto something.

“You use your wand whenever you study my Mark,” Draco pointed out, which made Potter smile.

“That’s for show; look.” Potter grabbed Draco’s arm and rolled up his sleeve. He began hissing as he normally did, though this time without a wand, but the wonderful sensation in his Dark Mark was still there along with the faint thrumming of magic.

A man stumbled over to them, his pupils as wide as Potter’s.

“That’s lovely,” he slurred, nodding towards Draco’s arm. “Fancy a threesome?”

Potter smiled politely at the stranger. “Do you know how venomous the bite of a black mamba is?”

The man shook his head, furrowing his brow in confusion while Potter hissed under his breath. “Er, no,” the man muttered. 

Mehen slithered out from under Potter’s shirt, hissing loudly as he shot outwards threateningly. “Well,” Potter said with the same cold smile, “would you like to find out?”

The man shook his head and quickly hurried away, while Draco reaffirmed his idea of an evil Potter. 

“So what?” Draco said, watching Mehen cautiously as Potter petted the snake’s head like it was a beloved puppy. “You’ve learnt how to control pure magic, and you’re going to teach me what you know? That still doesn’t explain what you’re doing with my Dark Mark.”

“How many times do I need to tell you to wait, Draco?” Potter exclaimed, his eyes flashing as he glared at Draco. Mehen hissed, and Draco decided it would be wise not to piss Potter off any further while he had a deadly snake in his arms. “You’ll be finding out very shortly, providing I get the breakthrough I’m expecting soon. Trust me; it will be worth it.”

***

Three days later, Potter finally made the breakthrough he had wanted.

Draco knew, because Potter’s pupils went wide and he went quiet, before a genuine smile crossed over his face. 

Potter began hissing again, and it took Draco a moment to realise that Potter was trying to talk to him.

“In English, Potter?” 

Potter’s mouth made an ‘o’ shape as he realised his mistake. “Draco, it’s done. We’re ready to move onto stage two.” Potter’s eyes were practically aglow in excitement, and Draco feared that if he looked into them for too long then they would kill him.

“Stage two of what?” Draco demanded. “ _We’re_ not ready to do anything until you tell me what’s going on. I’ve waited patiently, which I really don’t like to do, and you said you’d tell me soon.”

“I’m going to make our world a better place,” Potter said, and Draco had been so prepared for Potter to make some vague excuse that he wasn’t sure if had simply hallucinated Potter answering.

“Come again,” Draco said, because if Potter had said what Draco thought he had, then Potter was beginning to sound a lot like the Dark Lord.

“There is so much bad in our world, Draco,” Potter said seriously, while his snake slithered up to curl around Potter’s shoulders. “How long until another Tom Riddle comes along? Our legal system is terribly flawed - innocents get prosecuted while the rich can commit monstrosities and get away with it. People are being publicly shunned and mistreated simply because their blood isn’t pure or human, and there are children living with abusive families but nobody cares because they pretend abuse and neglect don’t exist. Going through legalities and policy changes would take a lot of time and support; my plan will be quicker and more effective.”

“And what is your plan?” Draco asked slowly, still unsure where the Dark Mark came into Potter’s ideal.

“The bad take out the bad,” Potter declared, spreading his hands in front of him. He smiled slowly, and Draco thought he looked rather manic - but what did that say for Draco when he was the one listening to Potter like he had a point? “Voldemort had power over his followers through the Dark Mark. I’ve been studying its properties to find out exactly _how_ , and I think I’ve finally got it. I can re-attune the Dark Mark to me, and using pure magic I will be able to control any who carry the Mark.”

Draco took a step back. “Like me,” he stated fearfully. 

Potter’s smile only grew wider, stretching up to his thickly-kohled eyes. “That’s stage two. I can use your Mark to change the others, Draco, but then I can release you from the magical bond I’ll have over you.”

“What if I don’t let you?” Draco asked, even though he would never - partly because he was somewhat terrified of Potter and Mehen, but mostly because he was intrigued by the idea of Potter’s power. 

“Then I don’t release you from the bond,” Potter said simply. “But you won’t throw this opportunity away. You live for power, and you will be my second in command. The two of us will be skilled and knowledgeable, far more powerful than most witches and wizards could even dream of being. You won’t turn this opportunity down,” Potter said again, and Draco cursed Potter for knowing him so well. 

“You swear you’ll release me from the bond?” 

Was Potter insane? Yes. Was Draco even more insane for following Potter? Definitely. But Draco wouldn’t be able to stop Potter, and if Potter wanted to give Draco power and knowledge while on some psychotic vigilante spree, then so be it. Potter was right - Draco wouldn’t waste an opportunity. 

Potter nodded. “I swear,” he said, and then he took two steps over to Draco.

“I’m using my wand for now,” Potter explained as he withdrew it, “because I need the accuracy. It’s for channeling the pure magic, only. By the way, this time might sting a bit.”

Then he pushed Draco’s head to the side and pressed his wand against Draco’s Dark Mark. 

Potter had lied; it didn’t sting a bit - it stung _a lot_. The Mark felt like it was sizzling against Draco’s skin, and he gritted his teeth against the pain. 

Mehen slithered onto Draco’s arm, looking up at his master. Draco spared Potter a glance, too; he was focused entirely on his magic, the green glow coming from his wand lighting up his face and coating his body like a mist. His hand on Draco’s head was strong and powerful, holding him in place.

Then all the sensations stopped and Draco’s surroundings disappeared. It was like he was in a dark void, with nothing but the sound of hissing in his head.

“Draco,” a voice whispered his name, and it took the voice two more tries for Draco to realise it was Potter. “I’m releasing the bond now; be ready.”

The warning wasn’t efficient, and Draco fell to the floor as he was slammed back into reality. His arm stung terribly, and his shoulder and fingers felt numb. Draco spared a glance down at his arm, and where there had previously been a red snake and skull was now covered with a black phoenix, with the body of it in the shape of an ankh. 

“Do you like my Mark?” Potter asked, grabbing Draco’s arm and hauling him to his feet. “Anyone else with the old Dark Mark will now have my new one. They’re going to go on a rampage, hurting those who deserve it; the abusers, the corrupt, the wicked. You and I will travel, and when we return we’ll save our world from the destruction the Marked are causing.” 

Potter smiled as he leant in and gently pressed his lips against Draco’s. And for all the strangeness Potter had brought into his life, Draco thought that single kiss had made it all worth it. 

“And so it begins,” Potter said as he pulled away. “The rise of the phoenix.”

***

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are very welcome. You may leave them here or over at Livejournal.


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